The Witches "Apprentice"

prologue

Monday, October 1st, 2018.

The day starts out dull and dreary. I wake up a bit late--a usual occurrence, especially on a Monday--and take a cold shower. The water is always cold between 7-8 am, conveniently the time I take my morning showers.

I dress myself in leggings, a plain black t-shirt and a red cardigan. I stand in front of the mirror on the back of my bedroom door and look over myself critically, my thin eyebrows furrowing together. My blonde hair is still wet, but it will be dry, frizzy and wild by the time I get to work.

After a bowl of sugary, incredibly unhealthy cereal, I put on my boots and leave my apartment, approximately ten minutes late. I show up to work late, too, in true Emmie Rhodes fashion. I tug at the Wells Fargo badge attached to my chest as I make my way to the breakroom, pretending I have time for a cup of coffee and hoping I don't run into any of the higher-ups.

I'm pouring my coffee when a voice behind me says, "Emmie, hey."

"Hi, Roy," I give him a small smile. Roy is known for his crude comments and horrible sense of humor. But since I'm usually late and so is Roy, it's nearly impossible to avoid our interactions.

"Did you hear?"

"What?"

"Mr. Gonzales is looking for you."

I avert my gaze, turning to dump a few sugar packets into my travel mug. "Oh. Thanks for letting me know."

"Good luck," Roy responds. I don't turn around until he leaves.

With a sigh, I hook my bag over my shoulder, take my steaming cup of coffee and make my way down the hall towards Mr. Gonzales' office. Usually I'd be opening up my till by now, but if he needs to speak with me, that gives me an excuse to avoid the rush of customers waiting to get their early-morning errands out of the way.

A brisk knock on his office door, and then; "Come in!"

The door opens to reveal the man himself sitting at his desk. He has his hands clasped in front of his round belly, but his usual smile is replaced with a frown, hardly visible beneath his thick, unruly mustache. I can only assume he spotted me coming into work late and I prepare myself for the lecture.

"Good morning," I say as I sit, setting my coffee down on the edge of his desk.

"Emmie," he greets. He waits until I'm settled to continue. By the look on his face, I can tell it isn't good and my stomach pinches with worry. "I am going to come right out and say it. Emmie, we're going to have to let you go."

His words hit me hard, my mouth falling open in surprise. I expected to be reprimanded for being late yet again, but let go?

"Why?" I ask weakly.

"Budget cuts. Unfortunately we have to let a few people go this winter. We took a look at each employees performance and made our decision accordingly."

"Is this because I'm late all the time? Traffic is crazy and unpredictab--"

"No," he interrupts, a bit impatiently. I can tell this is hard for him by the layer of sweat on his forehead, but that doesn't make this any easier to hear. "It's performance based, and unfortunately we don't believe you have a future with us. I'm going to need you to pack up your desk and be gone within the hour. Or we can have security escort you out." He holds out an envelope with my name on it. My last check.

I don't plan to put up a fight so his threat is hardly expected. I'm too stunned to do anything other than agree. All I want is to get out of there and gather my thoughts. "Okay. Okay, thank you."